Outside Interference: Dark Angel
by Stephentchel
Summary: *Complete!* Your humble author finds himself trapped in a (fictional) first season episode of Dark Angel, where he accidentally causes Eyes Only to be captured by an evil drug lord. Now he and Max must rescue Logan. Sound like fun? Not quite. Enjoy!
1. Default Chapter

Outside Interference ****

Outside Interference

Teaser

"She was designed to be the perfect soldier…"

__

"Oh, Christ. Not that damned opening again." I rolled my eyes as I walked upstairs to my room. I hated the way Cameron and that other guy – the unimportant one, that nobody remembered; uh…Eglee! – insisted on showing it to us for every episode. It was too cheesy, and it tried to make the series seem more epic than it really was. I was glad they finally cut that crap out by the end of the first season.

I mean, I liked the show and all, but come on. They didn't need two_ openings for one show. Either they make Logan's voiceover at the beginning of each episode the opening, or they make the title sequence the opening. One or the other. Not both._

"Together…who knows?" came the haunting question of Logan Cale.

It was a dark night when the shadowy man pulled up to the steel gate in front of his house. He reached out and paged a guard, who recognized him immediately. He pushed a button, causing the large gates, with his address of 439 Littleton Ave in gold-plated letters across the front, to slide open. The man drove his car up the long, winding driveway, passing by the security cameras. He could dimly make out some of the guards off in the distance, protecting him from intruders.

He drove up to his 3-car garage and parked. He pushed 0 – 3 – 2 – 8 on the keypad to unlock the front door of his enormous house, and stepped into the dark room, putting his suitcase down next to him. Groping for the light, he felt a moment of relief as the blackness sprung into dark, natural colors. He wasn't into all the sterile, black-and-whites of postmodern furnishings, and his wooden furniture gave his house a relaxed atmosphere that contrasted starkly with the kind of business he performed within its walls.

But right now his mind wasn't on the décor. He crossed to the back wall and opened up the hidden compartment behind the large painting over his couch. He typed in his password (0328 again), and watched as one of the bare walls slide out, revealing a small room.

Inside the room, computer screen stared back at him, while four telephones (each a different line) left a clutter of cords along the floor. There was also a faxing machine, a printer, and a copying machine.

Suddenly one of the telephones began ringing. He jumped at the piercing sound, and immediately sweat formed on his brow. It was the red phone; the one he least wanted to hear from right now. Taking a breath to calm himself, he picked up the receiver. "Yes?"

"Good evening, Walter," came a sinister voice.

Walter squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of the voice. "Mr. Forbes. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I'm actually calling to remind you about the shipment tonight. You do remember, don't you?"

"Yeah," Walter answered. "42,000 condensed bricks. I know."

"Well, perhaps you'd better get over there, Walter. I'm trusting this entire operation to you. It's the largest we've ever performed, and if anything should happen…well, you'll be a very unfortunate man."

"I understand, sir, and I'm on my way."

"I'm glad to hear it," the voice said.

Click.

Walter waited a moment to steady himself, then left the room.

~~~~~

It was raining as the headlights of Walter's car pierced the darkness of the harbor. Silhouetted against the lights of the boat floating silently in the distance were armed men, walking along the docks and among the crates that lay stacked on the ground. Walter stepped out of his car and waved the nearest guard off, who had drawn his gun when the car pulled up.

He made his way up the gangplank to the boat, where he was startled by a voice behind him.

"Mr. Johnson?"

Walter turned around. "That's right. Aaron Johnson. And you are…?"

"I'm Dwayne Allbright, the captain."

"Where are the immigrants?" demanded Walter.

"They're being guarded in that building, sir, until you tell us to bring them on board. I know this is your operation and all that, but I don't really think the immigrants need an armed escort back to Mexico."

Walter nodded. "All right. Tell me something, Mr. Allbright. Do you know what the conditions are in Mexico right now?"

When he saw Dwayne's blank, he continued. "Well, suffice it to say that, despite the Pulse, things in the U.S. are still better off than they are down there. These immigrants have gone to great lengths to get here and remain anonymous, so they aren't too thrilled about being shipped back down there. Many of them came here to escape prosecution for crimes they've committed."

Dwayne's eyes were widened in fright. "So perhaps now you understand why my men and I are coming along, hmm?" Walter asked.

He left the captain standing there speechless. As he walked down the hall of the ship, he thought he saw a shadow move out of the corner of his eyes. When he looked it was gone, so he shrugged it off and entered the cabin.

His eyes narrowed when he saw what was lying on his desk. It was a small laptop computer. Beside it, standing on a tripod, was a small digital camcorder.

Cautiously Walter approached the screen. As he did, the screen flickered to life, displaying two intense eyes between the words EYES ONLY, scrolling at the top and bottom of the screen.

"Mr. Erhardt, I would presume?" came a voice.

Walter scowled. "You must have me mistaken for someone else," he said.

The eyes blinked. "Enough with the cover-up, Walter. I know who you are, and you know who I am."

Walter nodded. "I heard of you. Eyes Only. 'The last free voice in the world,' or something like that."

"Something like that."

Walter chuckled. "You know, you really crack me up. Hiding under your little rock crying out to the world to put an end to evil and corruption, but taking no real action. If you had any balls, you'd be here talking face to face with me." His voice took on a hard tone. "You're a coward trying to act all patriotic and honorable, but by doing what? Your little video hacks never stop the real corruption. You take them out, and another fill their place."

"Let's dispense with the pleasantries," the disembodies voice continued. "I'm a busy a man, here in my 'little rock,' and I want to make this brief. I know about the cocaine shipment your boss is exporting along with the immigrants. But maybe what your boss _doesn't_ know is that only about half of the immigrants are being exported. And what space they don't occupy you plan to fill with your own little shipment of his cocaine. And I'm sure he'd be interested when he finds out that you don't intend on giving him the profits from any extra purchases. Here's the deal: you go back and tell your boss that the city will no longer fund your little drug trafficking scheme, and I won't tell them about you. I'm giving you a chance to quietly step out before I alert the city about your business. Consider this a warning."

"And if I don't?" countered Mr. Erhardt.

"Then you'll go down with them," came the simple reply.

Walter walked right up to the camcorder. "You don't seem to understand. My boss pays much of the police's payroll. He'll convince 'em to look the other way."

Walter detected a bit of amusement along the creases of the eyes on the screen. "Not if the evidence is too strong."

Suddenly there was shouting from the harbor. Walter rushed to the window. Gunfire erupted from the land, and he saw a distinct figure running across the driveway into the bushes. He had never seen anyone run so fast. He turned back to the screen, and saw that it had been disconnected.

Then he felt the first explosion. The ship rocked beneath him, and he lurched onto the desk, knocking the laptop and camcorder to the floor. He swore aloud, and staggered over to the window as another explosion, closer this time, tipped the floor up at a sharp angle. The window was designed to be an emergency exit, he saw, and he pulled open the handle on the glass as fast as he could. He knocked out the final pane and jumped from the boat just as the room behind him exploded. He landed in the dark waters as he saw the ship burst into flame and roll away from him. He surfaced from its depths, and saw as his ship, and all the money that would have come from it, sink into the swirling depths.

__

"All right, we're off to a good start," I said to no one as I took a drink from my soda. We've already had an explosion in the first three minutes of the episode. Everyone likes explosions."

It had been sprinkling outside for awhile now, but suddenly there was a loud clap of thunder. I saw the world light up for a few instances outside my window. Looked like a real storm was coming.

Nevertheless, I suffered through the opening sequence, waited for the spinning-baby-becomes-a-closeup-of-Max's-eye bit, and settled in for a nice, quality tampon commercial. Five more – an SUV, toothpaste, Internet company, AT&T, and wireless phone commercial, in that order – later, and the show began proper.

Chapter 1

Logan Cale sat surveying the destruction. Some of the wood scattered across the docks had caught fire from the explosion last night, and the armed guards had scattered before the police would show up. As fire officials took the statements of the few remaining onlookers, he shook his head. "You weren't supposed to do anything until I got a reply from him, Max."

Beside him, a young woman shrugged. "We both knew what the answer was going to be. I figured, why waste all of our time?"

"Yeah, but a _bomb_?" he demanded, exasperated. "You couldn't think of anything more…subtle?"

"It got the point across, didn't it?" she asked, dismissing it. "Besides, I gave him plenty of time to escape. If he couldn't make it out in time, then it would be his own sorry fault."

Logan motioned with his head across the parking lot. "There he is."

Walter Erhardt was showing a police officer his drivers license. "My name is Aaron Johnson, officer."

"And what were you doing out here at such a late hour, sir?" asked the policeman.

"I was coming home from a late night when I saw an explosion in the distance. I came by to see what happened. I'm not in any trouble, am I?"

"No, no," the officer said, shaking his head. "That'll be enough. Thank you for your cooperation."

As Walter eyed the crowds resentfully, he paused at the young brunette next to the man in a wheelchair. She was quite a sight.

Logan saw him leave. "You left the message in his car, right?" he asked Max.

She snorted. "Logan. Look who you're talking to."

He grinned. "All right, all right."

~~~~~

At 7:00 PM Walter Erhardt pulled up to a pay phone in the parking lot of a convenience store. He needed only to wait a few moments before the phone rang. He picked it up. "Yeah," he said.

"You got my message," came the voice.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," snapped Walter.

"Go behind the store. You'll see a computer and camcorder. I like to be able to see who I'm talking about," the voice said, then hung up.

Furious, but figuring he had little choice, Walter checked his surroundings before sneaking to the back. Sure enough, there was the same setup he'd found last night. He flipped open the laptop and switched on the camcorder. "You must have some money to able to waste equipment like this," he said when the eyes appeared.

"I may not make the kind of money you do, Mr. Erhardt, but it serves my purposes."

"Yeah, whatever. You got something to tell me?"

"You know about last night, so you know what I'm capable of. That was warning, and this is your last chance. You come clean on this, and I promise you'll be safe. I won't let the police do anything to you."

__

Another clap of thunder and the flickering of lights caught my attention. "Oh, great," I said. "If the power goes out now, I'm going to be really pissed."

"That's what you'll say now," Walter said, "but when it comes time to point fingers, your will be squarely aimed at me."

"I'm a man of my word, Mr. Erhardt," Logan said from his penthouse. "If nothing else, believe me about that."

__

Another flash of lightning, and the power went out. I was in total darkness, my only source of light coming from the TV screen.

The TV screen…

"What the hell?" I asked. If we lost power, how could the TV still be on. I walked over to the TV, which showed Logan in his penthouse talking to his computer screen. I reached out to touch the screen, almost as if to make sure it really was there, when there was a brilliant flash of lightning, very close, followed by a clap of thunder that seemed to be all around me. I stumbled, blinded and deaf, and caught my leg on the corner of the couch, which sent me sprawling.

I fell across what felt like a table, knocking something sitting on top to the floor. Then I stumbled and rolled over the edge of the table and found myself sprawled on the floor.

~~~~~

For a brief moment, as Walter watched the screen from the back of the store, he saw it tip sideways from some unseen commotion, revealing the entire face of the man. Then the screen went dark. He thought about the face, and how familiar it seemed.

~~~~~

Meanwhile, I stood up, blinking my eyes a few times. "Dude, that was _not_ cool." My eyes focused on the desk in front of me, and the man sitting in the wheelchair with a look of shock and fear in his eyes.

"AAAAAAAAH!" I cried, jumping the back. "Who the hell are you!? And what the hell do you want!? And how the hell did you get inside my…" my voice trailed off. I took a better look around. I wasn't at home anymore. In fact, it almost, _almost_ looked like…

"I should be asking you those questions," the man said, interrupting my thoughts. "Who are _you_, what do _you_ want, and just how the hell did _you_ get inside _my_ house?"

My head was spinning. "I don't know," I said. I shook my head (I had a pounding headache) and squeezed my eyes shut in concentration. "But I was…uh, I was watching TV just now…and, uh, damn, this looks just like his apartment…" I looked at the man in the wheelchair. "Man, he looks just like Logan Cale from the show too, but how, um, how – first, how did I get here? Where am I?" I was talking more to myself, but the guy wheeled right up to me and looked me straight in the face.

"How do you know who I am?" he asked. "You don't strike me as much of a thief."

I stared blankly at him. Suddenly recognition dawned, and I put a hand to my mouth. "Ho…ly…_crap_! I can't believe this! This can't be happening. I feel like that one kid from _Last Action Hero_."

"Who are you?" Logan asked. "How did you get here?"

"My name's Stephen Hentchel," I answered. "And I got here from…ha _ha_, this is awesome!" I walked around, leaving Logan frowning with confusion. "I can't believe this!"

"You said that already," Logan said, wheeling over to where I was standing in awe. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm in the show," I answered.

"What show?"

"What do you mean, 'what show?'" I asked. "_This_ show. _Dark Angel_." I laughed. "This is the kind of thing that only happens in a _fanfic_."

"Are you all right?" he asked. "You sure you didn't injure yourself when you fell?"

"That could be it," I said, snapping my fingers. "I hit my head and I'm unconscious. And since I was watching _Dark Angel_ when I fell, that was the last thing that was going through my mind. So I'm just dreaming now."

"You not dreaming," Logan said calmly. "You're really here. What I want to know is, how did you get here, and what do you want?"

"Are you sure I'm not dreaming?" I asked him. Then I shook my head. "What am I doing? Asking a character in my dream if I'm dreaming. That's hilarious." I started pacing again. "It must have been luck, really." I turned to Logan. "You were doing that interview with Walter Erhardt when-"

"How do you know about that?" Logan asked suddenly. "How long have you been in here?"

Immediately I stopped talking, and looked around. I was suddenly feeling very self-conscious. If I really was in this episode, did that mean people were watching me at home on their TVs? And how would my being here screw up the plot? More importantly, did it even matter?

"I asked you a question," Logan stated firmly. "You have no idea how dangerous that person is."

"Well," I said slowly, "I was watching you talk to him the whole time" – _which I was_, I thought, _so it's technically not lying_ – "and I recognize the guy. The camera kept shifting from your apartment to the backside of the store, so when I was pulled into the TV, it was during the scene _here_. If the camera was on that guy, I'd be _there_ right now. So I guess I was lucky."

Logan stared at me, then shrugged it off. "How do you know that man?"

"I've seen him around," I replied. Then I had an idea. "In fact…I could probably help you find him."

Logan leaned back in his wheelchair, and regarded me with a new interest.

~~~~~

Max headed to her locker to grab her helmet. It was a few minutes early, she knew, but Normal wasn't anywhere around, and she figured if she could just sneak out early…

"You know, whatever you and your friends do in your spare time is none of my business." She jumped and whirled around. There he was standing in front of her, his jaw set in an expression of mockery. "However, it becomes my business before 8:00, which if you'll remember is when you're still supposed to be here."

"Hey," Max said defensively, "I have other things to do."

"Really," said Normal. "And may I inquire as to what you had to do that was more important than coming to the only place in town where ungrateful, irresponsible individuals such as yourself can earn a living?"

"Well," Max answered, "let's see. First I have to bake cookies for the homeless man down the street, then I have to help a little old lady cross the street…"

"Forget it," Normal said, rolling his eyes. "Just go."

"…then I have to rescue children from a flaming building," Max called back to him as she watched him walk away, "then I have to destroy the corruptness plaguing this fair city…" She trailed off when she knew he was out of hearing range.

"It never ceases to amaze me the level of respect and kindness evident in the employee-employer relationship of this wonderful establishment," Sketchy droned when he saw Max approach. His eyes were droopy and he tried to prop his head up on his hand.

"Anybody up for a quick drink to tap off the night?" Original Cindy asked, glancing at her friend.

"Count me out." Sketchy yawned. "I'm staggering home and going to bed."

"Sorry, but I have a dinner date with Logan," Max said apologetically.

"Oh, don't apologize," Original Cindy said, raising an eyebrow. "Original Cindy understands."

"Then what's that expression mean?" Max asked.

Original Cindy shook her head. "Boo, you may be my girl, aiight, but you need some _serious_ work on that whole Miss Innocent thing you got going on."

"How else can a girl get a home cooked meal?" Max said defensively. "We're just friends, all right."

"See?" said Original Cindy. "Original Cindy says one simple thing, and you jump down her throat."

Herbal and Sketchy chuckled, and Max found her ears burning. "Well, anyway, I gotta go. See you guys bright and early tomorrow."

As she left, Sketchy muttered, "Not if I had anything to do with it."

She went and unfastened her bike. As she hooked the strap to her helmet, a black car pulled up the street behind her and slowed. Inside, Walter peered at the young girl and nodded to the driver. "That's her all right." He chuckled. "And she works at Jam Pony too. This was too easy. Let's see where she takes us. If we can stop Eyes Only, that'll be one less needle in our ass."

Max drove off, and the car pulled out into the lane and sped after her.

Tired and looking forward to a hot meal, Max remained completely unaware the entire trip. She pulled up to the high-rise and walked indoors, oblivious. The two men jumped out of their vehicle and followed her inside. While Walter stayed on ground level, the driver, the only one Max wouldn't recognize, walked after her. She was standing in front of the elevator nodding her head to song she was humming, and offered him a brief smile when he came to stand beside her. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside.

"What floor?" Max asked.

The driver scanned the numbers. There were twenty-four floors, and above the column of lights were also the letters "PH." "Uh, twenty-four," he said. This way, he could make a note of her floor without looking suspicious.

Suspicious, however, was exactly what Max's genetically engineered mind was thinking. It was a classic move, although she'd always been taught to take the floor _beneath_ the upper-most; that way it wouldn't look as unusual as choosing the top floor. Also, if the person she was stalking didn't stop at any of the lower floors _or_ the one she had chosen, then the upper floor was the only other option.

She pressed the button for the twenty-fourth, then selected the twentieth for herself. At her floor she left, and took the stairs up to Logan's apartment.

She walked into her apartment as she always did, as if she owned the place, and rounded the corner to see Logan talking with the new guest.

"Hey," she said, smiling. "Who's your little friend?"

"'Little friend,'" I repeated. "I appreciate that. It makes me feel honored."

"This," Logan said, motioning in my direction, "is Stephen Hentchel. Stephen, this is Max."

I stood up and shook her hand. "Wow, you're even hotter in person."

Max paused, and gave Logan an icy look. Logan shook his head and put a hand over his face. "You'll have to forgive him. He seemed a little disoriented when I caught him."

"Caught him?" Max asked.

"Yeah, I caught him after he'd broken into the place." Logan wheeled around and grinned at Max. "Sound familiar?" he asked warmly.

Max smiled back at him. I rolled my eyes.

"Speaking of which," Max added, "a little heads-up. Had a man in the elevator with me, and he chose the top floor. Figured he might be interested in knowing what floor I was going to, so I got him off track."

"A soldier to the end," Logan said.

"It's saved my ass more than once," Max answered. "Yours too. And you always told me to stay on guard when I dropped by."

"Fair enough." Logan was silent for a moment. "And it might be wise for awhile."

Max frowned. "What's up?"

"When I found Steve-" Logan paused and regarded me. "May I call you Steve?"

"No."

"Fair enough," Logan said. He turned to Max and took a breath. "When I found Steve, I surprised him and he knocked the camera down. I think Walter Erhardt might have caught a glimpse of my face."

Max looked worried. "Do you think he's seen you before?"

Logan sighed. "I don't know. Something like this has never happened before, and while it's not necessarily something to be alarmed about, I just wanted to let you know."

Max nodded. "You got it. So, what's for dinner?"

"Well," Logan said, "I had planned on something a little more down-to-earth tonight. Sirloin steak wrapped in seasoned bacon. I tastes better than it sounds," he added quickly. "I know it's not up to my usual culinary standards."

"What about me?" I asked.

"Uh…" Logan said, "Oh, yeah. Hmm. I might have some canned soup in the cupboard up there. Just heat it up. Check the expiration date, though. I'm not quite sure how old it is."

I waited to see if he was joking, then nodded. "All right." I went into the kitchen. "I'll just have some soup," I called back to them. "In fact, I love soup! Let's see what we have here. Ooh, 'chunky!' Oh no, wait. Heh. It expired back in the early 90s. But what's this? 'Cream of broccoli!' I'll eat like a king! All right! You guys just enjoy your steak!"

Back in the other room, Logan looked down and chuckled. "Don't let first impressions fool you. Once you get to know him, he's really quite annoying."

"I'll bet," Max answered.

Dinner conversation was mostly light, probably because I was there. Hoping to break the silence, Max asked, "So, Stephen. Have you seen me around before?"

"A few times," I answered. "Why?"

"That little comment you made," she answered. "How much" – she cleared her throat – "_hotter_ I am in person."

Logan looked up, but didn't say anything.

"Sorry about that," I offered. "Just still a little shocked by what happened to me." _If only you knew._ "But yeah, I've seen you around. A few times. We're in sweeps right now, see, so it's nothing but repeats. The season finale aired a few weeks ago. I've seen this episode before, and it's not one of their better ones."

Max and Logan were silent for a moment. "Uh huh," Logan said. "Tell her what you were telling me earlier." He glanced at Max. "You should find this interesting."

I put my spoon down. "I know about that barcode thingie on the back of your neck. And I know about the Manticore thing."

Max looked at me in silent amazement. "How do you know about that?" she finally asked.

I shrugged. "They keep showing it in black-and-white flashbacks during the episodes. Usually to accentuate that something profound is happening to you. It really pisses me off."

Max leaned forward. "Okay. Anything else?"

"Well, that phase you go through every once in a while, when you go into heat? I don't mean to talk about something that's obviously embarrassing and uncomfortable, but the only reason you have it because it appeals to the young males of the viewing audience. I mean, come on. A girl who gets so horny she has to have a man or else she'll die??? Hell, I remember the preview for one episode," I added. "The second episode that had you going into heat, I think it was. It showed you on top of a soldier who was attacking the building, and you said something like, 'you better be as good as you look, solider, because I'm not one to take disappointment lying down.' Once I saw the episode, it turned out to be a dream sequence, and added nothing to the plot. But _that_ was what they showed as part of the spoiler for next week." I took a deep breath. "Doesn't make sense, does it?"

Max nodded and tilted back. She didn't say anything, however, but rather gazed at me with a combination of confusion and genuine fear. In the silence, the only thing heard was me gagging on my Cream of Broccoli.

~~~~~

After dinner, they had to decide what to do with me.

"He should hold up here," Max suggested. "'Cause I sure don't want him at my crib."

"Thank you," I muttered.

"I think that's probably best all around," Logan said. "Your little nest isn't exactly the safest place in Seattle."

"I get by," Max answered.

"Maybe tomorrow I can convince Bling to take you around Seattle," Logan said to me. "I've got some work I need to do. Afterwards, you can tell me more about Walter Erhardt."

"Thanks," I said. "I've had a hard day, and if you don't mind I'll turn in early."

"Sure," Max and Logan said together.

I eyed them suspiciously. "Right…"

Logan and Max watched me leave, and smiled at each other.

"You know," Max said after a moment, "I've seen you offer all sorts of people safe haven around the city, but I think this is the first time you've let someone stay at your place."

Logan chuckled. "He's technically an informant, and I pride myself on keeping informants safe from harm. I get a better shelf life out of them that way."

"Still, it's sweet," Max said, trying not to let too much affection enter her voice. "And I'm wondering if I should stay too. Just to keep _you_ safe from harm," she added.

He smiled. "I appreciate it, Max. But I think I'll be okay." He leaned back and gave her an ironic look. "It's a lonely job, being the sole voice of justice. I've had plenty of close calls before you came along. Not as _many_ close calls, mind you, but…" his face softened and his voice became tender, "I wouldn't change a thing for the world."

For an instant their eyes locked, but it was interrupted by a scoff from Logan's bedroom.

"Would you two _mind_? I can't sleep with all this corny, pseudo-passionate dialogue. Logan, either kiss her, or make her go home!"

Logan and Max paused for a moment, listening to the muffled rant coming from the other room: "Jesus, it's only the first season and they're already panting for each other. Cameron and what's-his-name have no patience. They should take some advice from Chris Carter. _The X Files_ is in its seventh season and Mulder and Scully have _never_ been this bad…"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Hey man, you ready to start the day?"

I rolled over and opened my eyes. It was the next morning, and Bling's silhouette stood in front of the doorway. He was leaning slightly in, and when he saw my eyes he smiled. "When Logan's busy, he likes it when others aren't around. If you catch me."

I nodded. A quick shower later, I had my clothes on and we were walking the streets of Seattle. Of course, I'd seen the set on TV hundreds of times, and I suspected that, like any other show, the sets were redesigned and used to represent different parts of the city. However, in the pseudo-reality of the show, there was no set: the carnage stretched as far as my eyes could see. The streets were littered with garbage, which was sometimes piled almost to the second story of the surrounding buildings. People wandered the streets or huddled around flaming garbage cans. For the most part they seemed like decent people; only wanting to be left alone.

It was pretty disturbing. "Hey Bling," I asked, "when was the Pulse?" I knew it was common piece of _Dark Angel_ trivia, but damned if I could remember it.

"June 1st, 12:05 PM," Bling replied without a moment's hesitation. Then he looked at me quizzically. "_Everyone_ remembers that."

"I have a poor memory," I answered by way of explanation.

"If you say so," Bling answered. We were passing by a café. "Hey, you wanna grab a bite to eat?"

"Sure," I answered. "I'm not really hungry, but I could use something to drink."

Inside we sat down and ordered. Bling ordered a cheeseburger, and when I asked him if it was appropriate for a physical trainer to be grubbin' on big, greasy burgers, he shrugged if off. "I can afford to do it once in a while."

Suddenly the football game on the TV went blank, and the Eyes Only logo appeared. "So that's what he was doing," I commented.

"Do not attempt to adjust your set," the voice said. "This is a Streaming Freedom Video. It cannot be traced. It cannot be stopped. And it is the only free voice left in this city."

"Aw, somebody put the game back on!" yelled another customer at the far end of the bar. "I got fifty bucks riding on this!" There were roars of laughter.

Bling shook his head. "There are just some people," he said. "They'd rather remain ignorant about the world."

A picture of Walter Erhardt appeared on the TV screen. "Many of you may recognize this man as a respected businessman of the community," the voice continued. "What you may not realize is that, even as Walter Erhardt appears to be a legitimate exporter with a contract from the city for the exportation of illegal immigrants, many of the immigrants are kept behind and murdered. The extra space is given to a far more lucrative shipment: drugs. Marijuana, cocaine, you name it. Our only hope for bringing this criminal to justice lies in you, the citizens, since the government would never voluntarily convict him for doing their dirty work for them."

As we watched, I saw the other people calm down and pay attention. I had to admit, Logan's method was pretty reliable. It certainly caught other people's interest.

"Poor Logan," Bling was saying. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "You don't know how hard it is on him, not being able to walk."

I nodded. "It won't be too bad, in the long run," I offered. "If the season finale's any indication, he'll be able to walk again. It's been a tough time, but he'll be better for it."

"I wish I had your confidence," Bling murmured.

"Trust me," I said. "This episode is a relatively early repeat."

It was after noon by the time we returned to Logan's apartment. Bling had shown me all sorts of spots around Seattle. What interested me the most (for obvious reasons) was the Space Needle. I asked him if we could go up there, because I was in the mood to do a dramatic soliloquy. He didn't get the joke.

Bling pushed the door open and walked in. "Yo, Logan. We're back."

"Nobody ever seems to knock around here," I said. "Maybe Logan wouldn't be so paranoid if he knew we were about to come in."

"Hmm," Bling said. "Logan! You here?" He wandered into Logan's bedroom.

Silence.

"He must still be out," I heard him say.

I was wandering over to his hacker equipment when I saw the package on the floor. "Hey, Bling!" I called. "Did Logan receive a package?"

He came in the room and saw the box lying on the ground. He picked it up, glanced inside, then promptly dropped the box and backed away. "Damn," he whispered.

"What?" I asked. "What is it?"

"It's a Fryer," Bling answered. When he saw my confused look he shook his head. "A – a neural inhibitor, or something like that," he explained. "I don't know what they're officially called. But I've heard of them before. When they go off, they send a bolt of electricity through your body that knocks you out. Quiet and efficient."

"How did you know about them, if Logan didn't?" I asked.

Bling gave me a look. "As far as I know, only the military has these," he answered. "And I've been around some. I wasn't always into physical therapy. Logan probably never even suspected it."

Suddenly the apartment door opened. "Go into the other room," Bling commanded. I saw him crouch down and move behind a piece of furniture.

"Logan, it's me!"

Immediately Bling relaxed. I felt better too. It was Max.

She came into the room to see Bling stand upright. "What's going on?" she asked with confusion. Wordlessly, Bling tossed her the Fryer. She peered into the box. When she looked up, her brows were drawn together in fear. "Where is he?" she cried.

"We don't know," Bling answered.

Max abruptly turned to the door. "The fool," she was saying. "I knew he couldn't stay up here forever. Who knows what trouble he's gotten himself into."

"Where are you going?" Bling called.

"Jam Pony," Max answered. "I recognized the label on the Fryer. They delivered it to him. I've gotta check the log books."

"I'll come too," I called. "I might be able to help you out!"

"You've caused enough trouble as it is," Max snapped.

"Max," came Bling's cool, even tone. "He made a mistake, but from what Logan told me this morning, he really knows his stuff about Erhardt. It might be wise to take him along."

Max regarded me for a moment, then sighed. "Fine."

~~~~~

When we pulled up to Jam Pony on Max's motorcycle, I jumped off as quickly as I could. "Damn," I gasped, thankful to be on solid ground. "Was there any reason you were going _sixty_ the whole way?"

"If you can't stand the speed, you should've stayed at the apartment."

"No way," I said. "You're the star of the show. If I don't stay with you, I'll hardly be in the episode."

"Now here's something you don't see every day," Normal said when he saw us walk in. "Could it be that you actually came in for work on your _day off_? I must say I'm impressed."

"Guess again," Max said, walking by.

Normal looked at her in surprise. "Rough day," I said by way of explanation as I jogged after her.

"Max," Original Cindy said, surprised. "What're _you_ doing here?"

"I've gotta find a record," Max said. "Any of you make a delivery to Logan's apartment this morning?"

Original Cindy, Herbal, and Sketchy shook their heads no. "Damn," Max swore.

"So what's the dealio?" asked Original Cindy. "You look freaked."

"Logan's been kidnapped," Max said hurriedly. "Somebody here delivered a package that knocked him unconscious. I need to know who wanted it delivered."

Herbal retrieved the logbook and plopped it down on a table. "We've had a lot of deliveries the past few days," he said apologetically.

Max flipped to the day's date and frowned. "You weren't kidding," she said, running her finger down the deliveries. "Here it is," she said at last. "Aaron Johnson. 439 Littleton Avenue."

"That's way up on the other side of town," Original Cindy said. "He's playin' you."

"Check to see if this Johnson has any other entries," Herbal suggested.

Max flipped quickly through the pages. "He's got a few more," she said, shaking her head. "But nothing suspicious."

"Wait a minute," I said suddenly. "Did you say Aaron Johnson?" I pushed my way up to the table and peered at the logbook. "That's it," I said confidently. "439 Littleton Avenue. I remember that name from the teaser before the show started."

"What?" they all asked.

"Forget it," I said. "What I meant was, 439 Littleton is where Walter Erhardt lives. It's just a false name."

I could see the skepticism in their eyes. "What's Logan doing getting wrapped up with people like him?" Sketchy asked. "I don't know much about him, but I'd stay the hell away from Erhardt. Especially after what that video feed this morning said."

"He does this all the time," I said. "He's Eyes – _mmf!_"

Max had clapped a hand on my mouth, and she was glaring cold fire at me.

Original Cindy looked at each of us. "Uh _uh_," she said. "You better tell us what's going down."

"It's nothing," Max said, nonchalantly trying to smother me with her hand. "Thanks anyway, guys. See you tomorrow." She backed out of the building, still holding me.

When we were sufficient distance so that no one could see, she turned and cuffed me on the back of my head. "I don't what the hell's wrong with you, but you're really starting to piss me off. I'm trying to save Logan's life, and you're in there foolin' around!"

"It's not like he's going to _die_ or anything," I said, rubbing where she hit me. "He'll be fine. He's a main character!"

Max gaped at me. "What kind of argument is that?" she demanded.

"Nothing," I said. "All I know is that Walter Erhardt lives at that address, and even if Logan's not there, maybe there'll be a clue where he is."

Max looked at me, and sighed heavily. "You'd better come in handy," she warned, "or I'm kicking your ass, then I'm kicking Logan's for letting you stay."

~~~~~

It didn't take us long to arrive at Littleton Avenue, probably because Max went a steady eighty-five the entire way. I unclasped my white-knuckled hands from around her waist, and took a few shaky steps on the ground until I could regain my bearings.

Max was already at the front gate by the time the world stopped moving haphazardly in front of me. "I don't see any lights on in the house," she said. "I don't think anyone's home."

"You can see the house from here?" I asked, surprised.

She looked at me.

"Oh, right, yeah. The, uh, the binocular vision thing." She continued giving me her look, and I became defensive. "Hey, I can't tell in this light! I'm used to having a great big close-up of your eyeball on TV so I can see the zoom effect, all right?"

She took a step back, and scanned the massive bricks wall that enclosed Walter Erhardt's estate. "I'll be right back," she said after a moment. In one massive leap she cleared the wall. Seconds later a rope appeared, dangling down. I pulled myself up, and dropped ungracefully down beside Max. "Wasn't sure you'd let me come," I commented.

"Neither was I," she answered.

We stole quietly across the yard. Thankfully, there were a few trees scattered around that provided some protection. Max held up her hand silently, commanding me to stop. She knelt down behind one of the trees and cautiously surveyed the house. "Keep an eye out for me," she whispered. "Try not to get us caught."

"You got it."

"_Freeze_!"

"Max, we're caught."

In a flash, Max whirled around and twisted the gun away from the guard standing over me. With one smooth motion, she hooked his arm in hers, planted her feet, and flipped him over her shoulder. He landed with a _thud_ on the ground, and didn't move.

I shook my head. "It always seems to take only one punch before the guards are down."

She quickly stooped to remove his radio when it suddenly crackled to life. "So, you find anything over there?" came a static voice. "It's been a minute."

Max tossed me the radio. "Answer him."

"What?" I looked down. "What do I say?"

"Do you copy?" the radio crackled again. "Is everything all right?"

I held up the radio. "Uh, yeah, everything's all right. I'm heading on over to the far end of the yard. I think I see something."

"All right," came the reply.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn't believe that worked. "So what's our plan?" I asked.

"Go in through the window," she answered without looking back. "It'll set of an alarm, so we'll only have a few minutes before the guards are on us."

"That's a good plan," I commented. "At least, in the context of the show it is. But maybe we can avoid a gratuitous fight scene."

This time, Max did look back. "What?" she asked.

I led her up to the front door. "I saw the code during the teaser," I explained.

"What is it?" Max asked.

"Uh…" I paused. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember?" Max demanded. "Then why the _hell_ are we up here?"

"Well, not _everyone_ is a fictional genetically engineered soldier who can remember phone numbers by their tone," I said defensively. "I'll get it." I tried 0 – 8 – 5 – 2.

Suddenly, an alarm went off. "Oops," I muttered. "You must only get one chance."

Max crouched down and quickly checked the yard. She looked like a cornered cat. "We're gonna have about thirty seconds before those guards down there spot us," she said.

"Don't worry," I said, trying random numbers. "I know the last number is seven, and I think there's an eight in it, and either a five or a three."

Max stared open-mouthed at me. "If we live through this, I _swear_…" she began fiercely.

"I know, I know. You'll kick my ass." I tried 0 – 3 – 2 – 8. A green light flashed on the keypad, and I could hear the door _click_. "Huh! Well, what do you know?"

Max had heard it too. "Why are just standing there!?" she cried.

"Well, on TV it usually takes until the very last second before a code is remembered," I explained. "You know. To up the suspense so that – _ah_!"

Max had grabbed my shoulder. She pushed the door open and hauled me inside. Then she quietly shut the door behind us, and reset the locks. "Let's hope they think it was an animal," she said.

I quickly pointed to the painting. "There's another keyboard behind the painting. It has the same code, and it'll open up a secret communications room, or something."

Max opened up the painting, typed in the code, and sure enough the wall slid open. I followed Max into the room, where she started shuffling through a filing cabinet full of papers.

I wandered over to the telephones. I remembered the red one being the most important, so I checked the answering machine. There was one message waiting. "_Mr. Erhardt_," it began. I recognized the voice as the one Walter had talked with on the phone during the teaser. "_You have less than fourteen hours to find the officer that attacked you. Otherwise, the consequences won't be very pleasant. I look forward to your call_."

"'Officer?'" I repeated questionably.

"He can't tell his boss that Eyes Only was responsible for the explosion," Max said thoughtfully. "Then if the boss wants to meet Eyes Only, Logan will tell him that Erhardt is stealing from him for his own profits." She turned to me. "And Erhardt knows it. So he lied to him about who sunk the ship, and he'll deal with Logan quietly, on his own." She slid into the chair and began typing at the computer. "Thank God for that."

"Why?"

"It means that nobody outside of Erhardt and maybe his guards know that Logan is Eyes Only, and he can't really tell anybody. Logan's identity is safe for now."

"So what are you doing?" I asked, leaning over her shoulder.

"I'm going to see if he's kept any records of other deliveries over the border," she said, typing. "There was nothing in the filing cabinet." Suddenly a password box came up. "Damn," she said quietly. "You know the password?"

"Not a clue," I answered. "And if the front alarm was any indication, we can't risk guessing."

Max sighed and flipped the computer off. "Then this whole trip was a waste of time," she said angrily. "And we still don't know where Logan is."

"We'd better get out of here then," I commented. "The guards are still looking for us."

"Thought you said we'd have plenty of time," she snapped.

"Well, by now the average viewer is getting tired of all this plot development, so they'll probably throw in a fight sequence or two," I explained. "Nobody really watches this for its thoughtful comment on human nature."

Max shook her head. "Whatever. Come on."

She decided against using the front door again, since there would still be some suspicious guards snooping around. She led me upstairs, and we went into the only bedroom that faced the rear of the house. She slid a window open. A tall tree grew nearby, and its closest branch was a distant ten feet from the window. Without pausing, Max crawled up into a crouching position on the windowsill, took a flying leap, and grabbed hold of a branch. Deftly, she pulled herself up until she was standing on the branch, braced herself, and offered me a hand. "Jump," she said.

I looked down to the ground, which seemed forty feet away, then up to her. "You must be out of your damned mind."

"Don't make me come back over there," she warned.

"Fine." I awkwardly clambering out onto the sill, and looked shakily up to where she was standing. "Promise you'll catch me?"

"If you don't jump in five seconds, I'll leave you here for the guards."

"I hope that's a yes." I took a deep breath, took another one, took another one, took—

"_Now_!"

I jumped.

She reached out to one of my gracefully flailing limbs and caught hold. I swung through the air and collided with the branch, muttering a word that would have raised the rating to TV-MA.

"Sorry," Max offered in a tone that suggested she was not at all sorry. She hauled me up to the branch, and then jumped out of the tree to the ground, waiting for me to climb down after her.

Spitting out pieces of bark, I blindly lowered myself onto a branch, when all of a sudden it snapped beneath my weight. I scratched desperately at the branch I'd been using to support myself, but it was now too high, and I could feel myself falling. I tried to grab any and all branches that I bounced off of on the way down, but even those more than twenty opportunities weren't enough, and I fell to the ground, jamming my ankle in the process.

"_Aaaah_!" I cried, grabbing my ankle and rolling on the ground.

"Shut up!" Max said sympathetically. "You're going to get us caught!" She tried to pick me up, but I waved her off.

"Go on without me," I said. "I'll only slow you down."

She gave me a look that almost seemed like admiration, and started for the wall.

"Where the hell do you think you're going!" I shouted. "Get back here and help me up!"

She turned. "But you said to go on!" she said angrily.

"I _know_ what I said," I answered. "But that was just theatrics! Standard television drama. I damned sure didn't _mean_ it!"

Max ran back over, and helped me up. She propped me against her body, and put my arm around her shoulder, but even as we started for the wall several guards appeared, with their weapons trained steadily on us.

"Freeze!" the foremost guard said. "Hands up!"

Max put her hands up, and I toppled over, bellowing in pain.

She smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Slowly, Logan opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, but he tried to look around. However, the very motion caused a throbbing headache, and he winced at the pain. He waited for a while, letting his eyesight return on its own, and he could see he was in a small room, barren except for his wheelchair in the corner. He was tired to a chair, and he could make out the sound of water crashing into the land. He was near the harbor.

The door in front of him opened, and he looked away from the brightness coming from the hall. The silhouette of a man approached, and gave Logan an amused look.

"So we have the mighty Eyes Only, felled by a common piece of machinery," he said, laughing.

"Walter Erhardt, I would imagine?" Logan said politely, letting the sarcasm slip into his tone. "I would assume you used a neural inhibitor on me. I have all the classic symptoms."

"Yes, it's a little toy of ours that's on loan from the military." Walter began walking around Logan's form, tossing the Fryer to himself. "It actually put you out longer than we anticipated," he said. "You've been out almost six hours."

"And what are you going to do with me – now that I'm awake," Logan added calmly. "Probably dispose of me like you do the immigrants. A nice, clean bullet to the head."

"Ever noble and poetic, aren't you?" Walter said. "You've been a thorn in our side for a long time, a long time. Other's, too. And now here you are, a prisoner."

"Your boss will probably like to meet me," Logan said. "He and I could have a few interesting chats."

Walter chuckled. "Now, why would I do that?" He moved in closer, leaning over and practically whispering into Logan's ear. "We're the only people who know about who you are in this room," he said. "And from what I've seen over the years, Eyes Only has a lot of information on a lot of people. If that information was made…_available_ right now, I might consider letting you go."

Logan looked up at him. "It's a tempting offer, Mr. Erhardt. But…I'm going to have to pass." He could see Walter's face begin turning red. "You see," he continued, "I make it a point not to let information fall into the hands of heartless, corrupt, _evil_ men such as yourself. Men who make a hobby out of finding ways to benefit from the ruin of others. I'm sure you understand."

Erhardt was shaking with a barely controlled fury. "Very well," he said at last. "If that's your wish, then I shall respect it." He began pacing again. "Let me tell you another hobby I enjoy. I enjoy watching people suffer. I enjoy watching people be pushed to their limits. I enjoy watching their eyes, when their _broken_" – here, he clenched a fist – "when their soul is destroyed, and seeing all life drain from them. I enjoy watching people _die_, Mr. Cale." He walked in front of Logan. "I'm not an evil man. I'm just persistent when I see something I want. And I want that information. We're about to test your limits, Logan."

"And how may that be?" Logan asked. "Another neural inhibitor?"

"No." Walter Erhardt shook his head. "I respect you, Mr. Cale. A man such as yourself shouldn't die with some technological device, or other such hogwash. You deserve a classic death." He grinned. "Starvation. One of the simplest tortures there is. I'll be back in the morning, and we can have another talk."

Logan watched Erhardt leave the room, closing the door behind him. He sighed to himself. More darkness. He only hoped Bling respected his wish: that all information Eyes Only had acquired would be destroyed.

~~~~~

I sat in a car, crammed between Max (which was good) and a guard (which was bad). I couldn't help reflecting on how safe cars were, especially when the driver wasn't a teen girl who refused to do below fifty, even through stop signs. Cars were good, safe vehicles. They had protection all around you. Not like motorcycles. I liked cars. Nice and safe.

"So where are we heading?" Max asked. We'd been forced into the car by the guards back at Erhardt's estate, and I had no idea where we were now. To my surprise, Max hadn't put up a fight, either. That didn't seem usual for her. In fact, it was the first word she'd spoken in twenty minutes.

"To the docks," the lead guard said. "Mr. Johnson is waiting for you."

"Cut the bull," Max shot. "We know what his real name is, and what he does."

"My dear," the guard answered. "You don't know the _half_ of what that man does."

"Couldn't be all that bad," Max said, adopting a smart-ass attitude that under the circumstances I wouldn't have recommended. "He gets paid to deport immigrants, and kills them off to make room for drug shipments. What could be worse than killing people to turn a profit?"

The guard gave Max a full-body look. "He sometimes lets us keep the women."

He leaned forward to brush Max's face, but she grabbed his hand and glared at him. "Touch me, and suffer the consequences." She threw his hand back at him.

The guard looked furiously at her, but then calmed down. "Alright. I wouldn't want to get you two all riled up."

"That's probably a good idea," Max said.

"Oh?" The guard smiled. "And why is that?"

"Because," Max answered, "I might do something like _this_!" With that, she launched herself forward, twisting the gun away from him and punching him in the face. Another guard brought his gun up, but she saw him and kicked it away. In the narrow space, she pulled his body towards her and landed a knee to his stomach. Max looked up at me.

I was still sitting in the chair, and had been watching the fight right in front of me. "This is great! It's like Surround Sound!"

"Don't just sit there!" she screamed. "_Do_ something!"

The guard beside me cocked his gun and aimed it at Max's struggling form, but I finally sprung into action. I grabbed it and shoved it aside just as he fired. The bullet went between the front seats and struck the driver, who slumped over. Immediately the car lurched forward as the weight of his leg pushed on the accelerator.

"It hit the driver," I muttered as I struggled with the guard. "Stray bullets always do." I sighed. "Should've seen that one coming."

The guard elbowed me in the face, and wrenched the gun away. But another well-timed kick by Max (who seemed to be everywhere at once) sent it flying out of his hand, where it landed safely on the floor. The guard dove for it, but Max dove for him.

"Get the driver!" Max yelled at my feet. "Slow us down!"

I maneuvered around their wrestling bodies to the front of the car, where I noted with some irony that the car was now speeding over seventy.

I reached around the body of the driver, which wasn't a pleasant experience, all the time wondering why all drivers could be taken out with a single bullet. It was more like a video-game than real life. _Maybe that's what Cameron is going for with this show_, I thought. I pulled the lever from "drive" to "neutral," and could feel the car begin slowing down. I grabbed the wheel and started driving, weaving past "yield," signs, "stop" signs, "do not enter" signs, "wrong way" signs, and red stoplights.

"What are you doing?" yelled Max. "Use the emergency brake!"

"Relax," I called. "I've got everything under con – oops."

"What?"

"Nothing," I answered. "It's nothing."

Max pulled herself up from the guard's unconscious form. In the background was the distinctive sound of sirens. She looked out the back windshield. "Did you just cut off a _ambulance_?"

"No."

Max glared at me.

"Well, they were in the way!" I cried. "Jeez, next you'll get after me for causing those two police cars to crash."

Max shoved me out of the way, reached across the body, pushed the door open, and hauled him out onto the road. She settled comfortably into the driver's seat and looked up at me. "See? Was that so hard?"

"No, but it was rather unsettling," I said. "His body might cause an accident."

She slowed the car down and pulled us over to the side of the road. We were both breathing hard. She turned to me. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah, sure," I gasped. "Never a dull moment on _Dark Angel_. I just want to know what it is with you and motor vehicles."

She had to smile at that. "Come on. Now we know where Logan is. We'll leave the guard on the side of the road, where they'll be sure to wake up with a nice, sharp headache."

"I just can't get over the fact that guy is dead," I said uncomfortably. "The closest thing to death I've seen are dogs getting hit by a car."

Max had opened the side door when she looked up in surprise. "Really?" I nodded. "Well," she said, "death, unfortunately, is something that I've had to learn to get used to."

"The Manticore thing," I said understandably.

"And you were right," she continued, looking up to the night sky. "During dinner last night. I do have flashbacks to those days." She looked away. "All they wanted to do was make me a killing machine. I've tried so hard to leave that part of me behind. But it follows me, and it's putting people I care about in danger."

"You've done a good job, from what I've seen," I said, wishing I could make her feel better. "Better than other people. Zack, for instance."

Max turned. "You know about him, too?" she asked.

"He was a regular guest star," I explained. "And popular with Logan in slash fanfics. Don't really see the appeal. But anyway, that was until the season finale. They may bring him back, though."

Max shook her head. "Well, anyway, we still have to find Logan and rescue him." She looked at me. "There's sure to be more guards at the docks, and you aren't really obligated to help me. Are you still in?"

I grinned. "You bet." She turned the car back on, but I held up a hand. "However, this time I get to drive. Am I'm making damned sure I go the speed limit."

~~~~~

We arrived at the harbor around midnight. Max directed me to park in the woods a safe ways away, and we walked the rest of the way. I tried to keep up with Max, but she was fast and sure-footed, and acted like this was as easy as walking down the street. _Probably is for her_, I thought.

I could see the spotlights of the harbor off in the distance, shining through the trees. As we approached the edge of the woods, Max signaled for me to stop. We crouched and peered across the lot. "That must be the building," Max said, pointing over to a squat, two-story structure near the water's edge. "I'll have to go get him out of there." She pointed at me. "You stay here."

"Aw, come on," I whined. "We're nearing the climax!"

"Forget it," she said. "You've already helped me more than I would've thought possible, but right now I can't risk being seen. Your job is to have the car ready."

"You'll need me," I protested. "How are you going to get Logan out of the building all by yourself? He's not exactly as mobile as we are."

Max paused, and looked steadily at me for a while. "Fine," she said. "But stay to the shadows. Once false alarm and this whole little trip will be a waste of our time."

Slowly, we proceeded out into the parking lot, where we wove between the few parked cars scattered about. It was cloudy and pitch-black, which probably was a blessing if it didn't make everything look so creepy. The only light came from a few windows in the building, and the weak beams from guards' flashlights off a ways to our right.

"I don't supposed you know where Logan is in there," Max said, nodding her head in the direction of the building. "That'd make this a hell of a lot easier."

"Your guess is a good as mine," I answered. "Probably on the second floor, though. I think that's where he went the first time I saw this."

"First time _what_?"

"Forget it."

"Good then," Max said. "That way we won't have to go as far." She started creeping to the back of the building.

"What do you mean, 'go as far?'" I hissed, following her. "We'll _have_ to go farther. It's the _second_…" I trailed off as she took a running leap and grabbed the bottom rung of an escape ladder, pulling herself easily up. "_Oh_… We're coming in down through the roof. Clever."

Max reached down with one hand while securing herself with her legs and other hand. "Come on," she whispered.

I jumped as I high as I could and she grabbed my hand. She lifted me up until I could reach the rungs myself, and I followed her up. She disappeared onto the roof, and as I followed there was a surprised shout. I could hear scuffling, and listened as several unseen blows were landed, followed by a _thud_. Max's head appeared over me. "What are you waiting for?"

"Just wanted to make sure you'd cleared the roof before I got up there," I answered wryly, crawling up.

Laying low to avoid being seen from the ground, we ran to the stairwell's emergency door, and Max jimmied it open with a special set of tools.

"Wow," I said. "I've seen those all the time on TV, but never in real life." Then I stopped. _Oh yeah._

She pulled the door open and we entered the stairwell. "Quietly," she said, as if expecting me at any moment to break out in a rousing rendition of the National Anthem. We made our way down to the second story, and Max leaned up to the window and scanned the hall. Quickly she leaned back.

"What'd you see?" I asked breathlessly.

"Walter Erhardt," she said, "with two security guards. They were heading for the elevator."

She waited a moment, then scanned the hall again. "It's clear." She began jimmying the door open. In the hall, there were several doors on each side of us, and we didn't know where to begin. Max took the left side, I took the right. Several of the doors were unlocked, but the few that were Max opened with the tool.

"Stephen," she said suddenly.

I turned and followed her gaze into a darkened room. There, sitting in a chair, was Logan Cale. Max rushed to his side. "Logan?" she whispered.

Logan's eyes opened, and he focused on Max's worried face. "Hey," he said quietly.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Better." He smiled. "Now that you're here."

"Aw, that's so sweet," I said, walking into the room. "I wish I had a writer who could come up with romantic dialogue like that for me."

Logan looked up with surprise. "You brought him?" he asked.

Max smiled softly. "Yeah. He's been a lot of help." She inclined her head. "More than I would have thought possible."

"Stop it, you're making me blush."

Max wheeled Logan's wheelchair over beside him. "Come on," she said. "We've got to get going."

"How'd they find you?" I asked.

Logan pulled himself into his wheelchair. "Max's deception on the elevator was a good idea, but it wouldn't fool them forever. They just caught on quicker than I anticipated." He motioned to his surroundings. "And I paid for it."

"The important thing is, you're okay," Max said. "Now let's get out of here."

"Walter said he wouldn't be back to check on me until morning, but he was just here," Logan said. "So that may give us some time, but I'm not sure how much. He could come back at any minute."

I opened the door just enough to peer both ways. "Coast is clear." Max and Logan followed me out into the hall and down to the staircase, where Max and I began struggling to get Logan's wheelchair up the stairs.

I noticed how quiet Logan got during this. I knew it was because of his feelings of helplessness in the wheelchair, after having taken a bullet in the spine from that one guy in the Pilot episode; I couldn't remember his name.

"I know what you're feeling," I said quietly. "And don't worry. Things will get better in the future, I promise. Besides, think of what a role model you are to people all across the country."

"How could people all over the country know me?" Logan asked. "I hardly even have _relatives_ outside of Seattle."

__

Oh, I think a few people outside Seattle know you. "Well, things will get better."

We got to the roof just as I became convinced I couldn't go another stair. Max, of course, wasn't even sweating. She directed Logan to the waiting rope, and helped him to a sitting position on the ledge. "Wait for me to reach the bottom," she said, and grabbed his wheelchair. She heaved it over the edge, and I heard it hit the ground. "Let's hope that thing wasn't manufactured in America."

"Ooh, a commentary on American businesses overseas," I muttered. "I'll bet the writers are patting themselves on the back for their cleverness with _that_ one."

Max disappeared over the edge, looking strangely at me. I watched her slide easily down. On the ground, she moved away from the rope and looked expectantly up at Logan.

"That's, uh…that's a pretty long drop," Logan said uncertainly.

"I practically sprained an ankle falling from a tree," I answered.

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" He never took his eyes from the ground.

"Just go one arm at a time," I suggested. "Don't look at your progress. Just keep going, and you'll be down in no time at all."

Logan took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, grabbed the rope, and fell back. Slowly but surely, he worked his way down the rope, with his eyes constantly focused on the wall in front of him. When he got to the bottom, Max helped him to a sitting position on the wheelchair.

I climbed over the roof, grabbed the rope, and slowly climbed down. Max was helping Logan into the bushes when I jumped to the ground. I pushed the branches aside and followed them.

We ran as fast as we could, for what seemed like ages. I looked up at the night sky, and wondered how late it was. Around 2:00 AM, I'd imagine. I hadn't slept in nineteen hours.

I suddenly saw the car appear in the woods, and I realized I hadn't been paying attention where I'd been going. Max had, thank goodness. She'd led us right around to the car. We slowed to a stop, and Max opened the passenger seat for Logan.

Then Logan placed his hand on hers to stop her. "Max, we can't leave yet."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Max turned to him. "What?"

"We can't leave yet."

"Sure we can," I said. "Give me the keys. I'll show you."

"No," Logan said. "We forgot some people." Max and I waited. "The immigrants," Logan explained. "There are still some immigrants in the warehouse over there. I know it's illegal, but we shouldn't allow them to be brutally murdered by that madman. Many of them have jobs over here. They have _lives_. They've _built_ something for themselves. They don't deserve to be abandoned."

"Yeah…" I said thoughtfully. "So Max, you wanna drive, or should I?"

Logan glared at me, but he turned to Max. "I know it's asking a lot after you rescued me. It'll be difficult, and it's pretty last-minute, but admit it: you wouldn't have my flashes of patriotism any other way."

"That, and the episode's running short," I added. "So they're going to add a climax that has little to do with the rest of the plot. Like the movie _Speed_."

Max thought for a moment. "Fine," she said. "But on one condition."

Logan frowned. "What's that?"

She broke into a grin. I became suspicious.

"Tomorrow night, you cook me the nicest meal I've ever eaten."

Logan's features softened into a smile. "I promise you."

Suspicion confirmed.

"All right." Max looked at me. "And as much as I hate to admit it, I'll probably need your help again."

"I'm not about to duck out just when it's getting good," I answered.

Max nodded. "Good. The quicker we can get out of here, the quicker I can go to bed. I've still got work tomorrow."

Facing the harbor was the warehouse. It stood a seemingly vast three stories high as we sneaked up towards it, looming up ominously against the sky with dark, broken windows.

Max paused behind a crate, and scanned the surrounding area. "I see eleven guards," she said. "You?"

"I think I see one over there, but I'm not sure. Say, you're not showing off, are you?"

"Perish the thought," Max answered, squinting. "I don't see any way in I like on this side. Come on." We sneaked around to the back, only to see several more guards roaming around. "This won't be easy. We'll have to get all the immigrants out without the guards seeing them."

"They're not immigrants," I said. "They're extras hired because they all have a darker skin color and black hair."

Max was to the point where she was ignoring my comments. "If those guards follow their patterns, three of them are going to leave in a few minutes to check the perimeter of the warehouse. We'll have about a minute before three more come around from the other side to replace them."

"A minute to do what?"

Max looked at me. "Fight."

"_What_? Fight? We'd be outnumbered three to one!"

"Grab a weapon," she answered simply. "Use that two-by-four over there."

I gaped at her. She had to be kidding. No one would be that stup-

"They're leaving," she hissed. "Go _now_!"

I shrugged and grabbed the board. Max ran out into he open, jumping into the air and kicking two guards in the stomach simultaneously with each foot. While they gasped for breath, she kicked the gun out of the hand of another guard, and grabbed a fourth by his hand, wrenching it sideways just as he fired his weapon.

In the fray, I saw one guard draw his own weapon. I went after him, swinging down hard on his hand. The gun fell to the ground. Unfortunately, I overshot with the swing, and that left me exposed. He slugged me in the stomach. I doubled over, wheezing, and fell to the ground.

He came after me, but at the last minute I swung at his legs, connecting with his right shin. He wavered on his good leg and fell on top of me, swearing. I tried to get out from underneath, crawling on my stomach, and he landed a punch in my kidney. My right arm was free, still clutching the board, and I swung back blindly, feeling it connect with something solid. I swung again and again, and he moaned. His grip on my leg loosened and I crawled away. When I rose, he was in the fetal position, clutching his head.

I kicked him twice in the stomach. "See how _you_ like it, asshole!" Another whack with the two by four and he was out. I jumped away, glancing over at Max. "Ha!" I yelled with excitement. Max, did you see that? I kicked his _ass_…" I trailed off.

Max turned to face me. Seven guards were lying in a circle around her feet, completely still. "Did you say something?"

I looked down at my guard. "Uh, nothing. Forget it."

"Come on," she said. "We're gonna have three more very soon."

"Hold on," I said suddenly. "Let me try something." I grabbed the gun from one of the fallen guards, and threw it as far as I could off into the woods, where it made a nice crashing sound. I heard yells coming from around the corner, and dimly saw the three guards rushing into the trees. Max looked impressed.

We dragged our guards behind some crates. "I can't believe you took on seven guards and won," I stated. "I'm surprised at least _one_ didn't have time to shoot you down right where you stood."

"I guess I just got lucky," she answered.

I could see she wasn't getting the point. "When it happens episode after episode, it's not getting 'lucky.' It's suspension of disbelief."

"Whatever," Max said. She pulled out the little tool and worked the door open. She stepped through, holding the door for me until I could reach it. "Careful not to let it close while-"

__

Click.

Max didn't bother looking back, but her shoulders slumped. "You let it close."

"_You_ didn't warn me fast enough."

"It locks from the outside," she explained. "We can't open it from inside here!"

We turned to view our surroundings. There were about forty immigrants, ranging from older men to baby girls, watching us with fascination. They looked pale and ghostly, and I wondered how long they'd been in here without food or water.

I stepped up to the nearest one. "We're here to get you guys out of here."

His brows furrowed in confusion, and he shook his head. "_¿Que?_"

"Great, Spanish," I muttered.

Max peered back out the window. Behind her I could see the three guards come in from the woods, and she ducked out of view. The guards began prowling around, and I saw one of them walk behind the crates. "Oh…crap."

He gave a cry of alarm, and the other two rushed over. The talked briefly, gesturing wildly, and before long two of them ran off, probably to get help. _Which means this place will be crawling in no time._

The last guard raised his gun and looked suspiciously around. He slowly walked up to the window and peered inside. His eyes locked on mine for a moment, and widened in surprise.

Suddenly Max jumped up. She punched through the glass, grabbed the guard, and pulled him into the door. His head collided with the wall, and he fell to the ground.

Several of the immigrants stared with amazement. "Big deal," I said. "They use tempered glass for that effect."

Reaching out through the broken window, Max fiddled with the locked door until it opened. She whirled around and began gesturing outside. "Come on, people. Come on. Let's _move_ it!" Slowly they began filing out. "Lead these people out of here," she directed to me.

"What about those other two guards?" I asked. "They're going to get help."

"I'll take care of them," she answered. She bent over to pick up the fallen guard's gun.

__

Wow…

Max turned around to glare up at me. "Hey!" she snapped. "If you don't stop staring at my ass, you'll be lying here next to him."

"Sorry."

I was given the weapon and the dirtiest glare yet. "Here. Shoot at anything that fires first."

"If they fire first, I'll already be dead." Nevertheless, I led the immigrants out into the darkness. I didn't really know where to _go_, of course, but I tried to make my way towards the woods on the far side, where they would have less of a chance of being cornered.

Suddenly I heard shouts from somewhere in front of us. I realized that they must have finally discovered Logan was missing. I could now see several more guards streaming out of the building, and I looked frantically around. To my left was a particularly large stack of crates, and I pointed over to them. "Come on!"

They didn't need to understand me to know what the plan was. We rushed across the docks, and they started trying to find places to hide. With the harbor nearly thirty feet behind us, we had a relatively good hiding place.

"Hey," a voice said beside me.

I jumped and turned. Max was already crouching beside me. "Can't I even trust you to get these people to safety?"

"Cute," I answered. "But look around you. Our situation is getting worse by the moment. I think they've discovered Logan's missing.

"Well," Max said, shrugging, "at least things can't get _much_ worse."

"You're asking for trouble with that line," I commented. "Now things will get worse, because it'll seem funny." Just then, a gunshot rang out, striking the ground a few feet behind us. "See?"

"That didn't seem funny," Max said.

"Because I spoiled the joke."

"I can try to draw a few of the guards away." She peeked over a crate. "Take them down the docks into the woods."

"There's twenty guards down there," I hissed. "How many are you planning on drawing away?"

Max gave me a sidelong glance. "I'm even hotter in person, remember?" She grinned wickedly.

I smiled back. "_Yeah_ you are."

She sneaked off. In a few moments there was a loud commotion off to the right, and I could barely hear her yelling. Sure enough, many of the men broke off and headed in the direction of her voice. Even better, she distracted the guard that had shot at us long enough for one of the women in the group to sneak up and lay him out with two punches and a kick.

We all made it into the woods in relative safety, and they seemed to understand that they'd been freed. They thanked me many times (I think; despite three years of Spanish I hardly know anything about the language), and I watched them vanish into the woods, honestly feeling good about myself.

I knew immediately to head back to the car. With the gun in my hand I started back in its direction. I sneaked quietly across the docks, trying to stay to the shadows as Max had suggested. Just then another guard came out from a crate in front of me. Just as I raised my gun he raised his. We both froze, with the guns steadily trained on each other's face. It was a standoff.

"Great," I said. "One of these."

"Who are you?" the guard demanded.

"Stephen," I answered. "You?"

"Eric," he answered. "If you put the gun down now, I might be able to convince my friends to let you live."

"Thanks," I answered. "But you know you can't win. You're a measly extra. I'll bet your name wasn't even shown onscreen during the first few seconds of the show when they list the guest stars." Suddenly I gave him a sly look. "In fact, you probably owe me one now. If it wasn't for this part with us standing here, you'd probably have no speaking lines in the show."

We were slowly circling each other now. "Is that so?" the guard asked, smiling. "Well, regardless of what you did for me, I'm still going to shoot you."

"You shoot me, I shoot back." _Assuming I know how this thing works._

"No you won't," He answered. "Your gun has no clip. You're empty." He laughed out loud.

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Well, in a second you're going to be unconscious. So there."

"What?"

__

Wham. The guard crumpled to the ground.

"Thanks, Max," I said, putting my arm down.

"I always seem to be saving your ass," she said. "And he's right. You had no ammo. _Tell_ me you didn't lead the immigrants around with an empty gun."

I grinned weakly.

She sighed. "You don't even know how to handle a weapon. Hand it over." She took the gun and gave me the now-unconscious guard's weapon. "I don't use them," she added by way of explanation.

"But _I_ do."

We whirled around. Standing there was Walter Erhardt, and he raised his gun to my head. "Drop the gun."

"And what if I don't?" I demanded.

"I call a maintenance man to come down here and mop your brains off the dock." He cocked the gun.

"You don't scare me," I said defiantly. "That's only a prop!"

He fired a shot into the ground. I jumped back.

"You may have let Eyes Only escape, but you're also going to bring him back." Walter held up a microphone. "_Logan_!" he shouted into it. "_I have your friends! If you don't come out, they'll die! Do you hear me!? They'll die!_" He grabbed me and held it in front of my face. "Say something," he snarled.

"Okay," I said uncertainly. "Um…" I leaned up to the microphone "_Nana Visitor, by accepting the part of Madam X, risks typecasting herself as an actress who can only play roles in science fiction series_!" I looked up at him gratefully. "Damn, it felt good to get that off my chest."

Walter stared at me, then shook his head and held the microphone up again. "_Go back to the building and meet me in the front. You have five minutes. _" With the gun thoughtfully jammed into the small of my back, Walter forced us toward the building.

~~~~~

When Logan heard the announcement, fear clutched his heart. _Oh my God,_ he thought. _Max? I can't let her be hurt!_ Pause. _Oh, yeah. And that, uh, Stephen kid. Maybe I can save him too._ He opened up the driver's side door. There was blood on the seat and parts of the windshield. There were also signs of a struggle in the back. "Certainly looks like Max's work," he said. She'd had enough foresight to keep the guards' weapons, and he selected one.

He knew there was no way he could make it through the woods with his wheelchair. He had little choice, he realized, other than to crawl back to the docks. It filled him with humiliation, crawling like an animal on his hands out to where Walter Erhardt stood with his friends at gunpoint. _Probably part of his sadistic games_, he thought bitterly_, to have me drag myself before him_. But Logan knew he had to put his pride aside; _Max_ was in danger, for God's sake. He couldn't see himself without her.

Knotting his brows in determination, Logan Cale set off for the docks.

~~~~~

Erhardt stood looking at his watch. "Five…four…three…two…_one_!" He held up the microphone. "_Time's up, Mr. Cale! Which one shall I shoot first? The woman or the boy?_"

"Neither."

I looked up with relief. Propping himself up on the ground lay Logan, with his gun aimed at Walter Erhardt's face. "Let them go."

Erhardt laughed. "The mighty Eyes Only indeed!" he cried. "Look at you! Sprawling on the ground like the broken little man you are! How _pathetic_." He sneered.

"_Let…them…go_," Logan said menacingly.

"If you shoot me, I'll take one of them with me," Walter said. "Which one will you have me take?"

"They're prepared to die," Logan said.

"Now wait just a _damned_ minute here…" I trailed off when Logan flashed me a look.

Walter ignored my outburst. "Do you think you're man enough to fire that weapon?" Walter asked. "Do you think you're _man_ enough, that you can take me down with one shot?"

I could see Logan's arm begin shaking. Walter saw that also, and he latched on to it. "And do you think you'll escape? My men will kill you on sight. You'd be difficult to miss."

"Knock it off, for Christ's sake," I snapped. "He's more of a man than you are."

Walter's head turned sharply to me. "What did you just say?" he growled.

"You heard me."

"You'll pay for that." He swung out and hit me in the jaw. I stumbled back and fell to the ground.

"And _you'll_ pay for that," Logan said.

He fired.

But not for Walter's head or chest. The bullet struck Walter's gun, and he dropped it in surprise. Max slugged him in the stomach and knocked him down with a high-kick to the head. She kneeled down and started beating him the face. "If you _ever_…" - _whack_ - "…say _anything_…" - _whack_ - "…like that _again_…" - _whack_ - "…I'll kill you." He didn't move.

I pulled myself up. "I'm sorry, Logan," I gasped. "About that whole 'he's more of a man than you are' thing. I know it was clichéd. I just couldn't think of anything else to say. I hope you'll - _damn…_" I saw Walter lying on the ground.

Logan smiled at me. "So you didn't mean it?"

"No!" I said. "I mean no, I _did_ mean it. It was just really corny dialogue. It's been done to death. I must be spending too much time in here."

"We have to go," Max said. "We still have guards out here." She looked awkwardly at Logan. "You'll need some help."

Logan knew what she meant, but it didn't seem to bother him as much now. For all of Walter Erhardt's comments, Logan had still won. He'd outsmarted him. As he felt himself lifted up, he had what could only be described as a new respect for himself and his capabilities.

And as I looked at him, I saw the world begin to dim. Max and Logan were oblivious. "What?" I yelled. "What kind of resolution is _this_? Max and Logan need one of those rainy, illuminating late-night conversations they always have. Talk about a copout!"

Logan watched me yelling to the skies, and glanced at Max, shaking his head.

And the world faded to black.

Credits

__

In a flash, all the power came on in my house at once. I was sprawled on the floor in front of my TV, which were listing off the executive producers of the show. I sat up and looked around. I was back in my room again. I could hear the rain outside.

Maybe it was a dream_, I thought. _That sucks. It was pretty good, too. Maybe I can write a story about it. No one will be believe me, of course. So I'll just say it's fictional."

__

I climbed to my feet, and shifted the couch back to its former position. All of a sudden I heard my Mom's voice calling from downstairs. "Stephen, we're home!"

"Hi," I called downstairs, then my face twisted in pain. "Ah! Damn it!" I rubbed my jaw. "I wonder why the hell that_ hurts?"_

"Feline DNA take the ultimate soldier..." I looked up. The preview for next week's episode was beginning. "Next Tuesday on Dark Angel_…" "I'm in heat again," Max whispered. "…It will make her the ultimate sex kitten."_

"Oh, no…" I whispered. "Story of my damned life."

"Can Max resist the call of the wild?" Original Cindy hits Max. "Thanks, I need that," she said. "This is the episode…" "Ready?" Logan asked. "Never readier in my life," Max answered. "…you must not miss." "Take off your clothes," Max instructed. "I hope you're as good as you look, solider. 'Cause I'm not a girl who takes disappointment lying down." "At 9/8 central next Tuesday, on Fox."

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe there will be something else on."


End file.
